I took a few days after I returned from New York to really mull things over. Days dedicated to thinking, to soul-searching.

“You think way too much.”

Madison informs me of this while we’re out at dinner.

I wave a hand as I protest. “How is that even possible? Especially in this case, with everything that’s gone on?”

She lets out a sigh of pure exasperation and sets her fork down on the table. Forearms braced on the table, she holds my gaze steadily. “You’re using your brain.”

I can’t help but stare at her. “As opposed to what?”

Her head drops, and she shakes it in exaggerated disappointment. “Oh, Emma Jane. You should be thinking with your heart.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”

She holds up her index finger. “No, it’s not. What got you into this mess was a misunderstanding along with a large dose of immaturity and insecurity.”

I visibly tense as her words hit their mark, and Madison’s expression softens. “Look at it this way. If I were still carrying around a handkerchief in my purse that had the initials of some guy from my past, what would you think?”

I exhale slowly. “I’d think you were still hung up on him.”

Her pointed look grates on my nerves slightly, but I have to admit she has a valid point. “So you’re saying I should give it another shot?”

“No.” Madison offers an encouraging smile. “Giving something a shot has a connotation that’s half-hearted. Like you’re expecting to fail.” She raises her eyebrows meaningfully. “I’m saying you give Knox and Emma Jane—EJ—all you’ve got. That you put your one hundred and ten percent into it.”

After taking a quick sip of her drink, she tacks on, “Because you have, as Becket calls it, unfinished business.”

* * *

“It’s great to have you back, Ms. Haywood.”

I flash an amused look at Tim, after he’s assisted in wrapping up a few loose ends with the legal aspects of Mr. Feldman’s contract. “Were you worried?”

“You have no idea.” He shakes his head as he taps a few keys on his computer. “No one could replace you.” A few more keystrokes. “And if you don’t get that promotion, I’m certain everyone will hold a protest in your honor.”

I tip my head to the side with a smile. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

After I leave Tim, I head straight over to Knox’s office, slowly drawing to a stop in front of his secretary’s desk. My eyes take in his closed door curiously.

“Karen, is he in?”

“No, ma’am. He had to leave unexpectedly.”

My body jolts in silent alarm. “Do you know where he went?” I ask slowly.

Karen eyes me oddly, and I realize how intrusive my question is, so I attempt to cover my gaffe.

“I’m asking because of this contract with Feldman and…”

“Well, if it’s urgent, that’s a different story, but”—she breaks off to flip through a small notepad on the side of her desk—“he specifically requested to not be contacted on December sixteenth unless, and I quote, ‘the building has been damaged by a natural disaster or arson.’”

December sixteenth.

“Oh, no.” I can’t resist a slight wince.

My traveling and distraction with everything going on completely threw me off. Hurriedly, I back up from Karen’s desk. “Thank you!”

December sixteenth.

There’s a completely valid reason he doesn’t want to be interrupted on this date.

* * *

“I managed to get everything in order, thanks to both Tim and Madison helping me.”

I turn the wheel of my car, navigating down the streets alight with antique-style lanterns.

“I’m proud of you, Blue.” Becket’s voice rumbles through the hands-free earbuds I have in. “Not only did you sign a massive deal with Feldman, but you’re kicking ass in your personal life, too.”

I laugh nervously. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Hey.” His voice deepens with affection. “I know it’s in the bag.”

I pull in and park my car a few feet away from the entrance of Granddad’s home, The Haywood Mansion, before turning off the ignition. Thank heavens Granddad had alerted me to the personal request he’d received earlier today. Heaving out a long breath suffused with nervousness, my hands begin to tremble slightly.

“Becket,” I start.

“Blue,” he counters calmly. “You’ve got this.”

I nod, and it’s more for my own benefit, an attempt to psych myself up. “Right.”

“Love you. Now, go do your thing.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Disconnecting the call, I dislodge the earbuds and toss them and my phone onto the passenger seat. Then I emerge from my car and close the door, clenching my keys anxiously.

As I approach the entrance, my heart races wildly and my mind starts a high-speed reel encompassing all my memories of this place.

The first floor is beaming with lights, and I quietly enter and make my way to the ballroom.

My breath hitches at the sight of him, standing right in the center, much like he was that very day. Except now, he’s facing away, allowing me a view of his partial profile. Knox appears lost in thought, eyes downcast, one hand in the pocket of his khaki shorts while his other dangles at his side in a fist. He’s wearing a worn T-shirt that stretches across his firm, broad shoulders and his feet are encased in a pair of leather flip-flops.

Slowly, I step forward, and he’s held so captive by his own thoughts that my quiet footsteps don’t register my presence.

“If you had to do it all over again, would you?”

His head whips around at my question, clearly surprised to see me, but intertwined with his expression is anguish. When he doesn’t immediately answer, my entire body tenses, going rigid in fear.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m too late. Maybe I—

“Yes.”

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until a whoosh of air rushes past my lips.

Turning to fully face me, he doesn’t approach, but instead regards me carefully. “I’d do it all over again.”

“Even though things turned out the way they did?” I probe.

He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

I take a step toward him and stop as I inhale a fortifying breath. “I realized something recently.”

“What’s that?” His voice is subdued, guarded.

“Becket told me that we have unfinished business that needs to be settled. And I realize Becket was right.”

His jaw works, and his expression becomes shuttered. I know what he’s thinking though, which is why I rush on.

“There’s only one problem with what he said.”

Knox’s throat works, and he swallows hard before prompting, “Which is?”

“We do have unfinished business, but I’m okay with that. Because, if I had my way, I’d always have unfinished business with you.” I swallow past the nervous lump in my throat. “Forever.”

I wait for him to understand what I’m trying to say. That I don’t want us to ever be finished.

That I want us.

My words pour out. “I’m sorry, Knox. I’m sorry for not believing in you, for not believing in us, for thinking the worst. I’m sorry for”—I pause, pressing my lips thin in an attempt to gain composure as the tears threaten to spill over—“hurting you. I thought…you didn’t really love me.” I shake my head at myself, at my overreaction, and stare down at my toes. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper and watch my tears give way, dropping down to plop right upon the skin of my feet bared by my flip-flops.

The silence is deafening, and without any response from him, I realize it’s a sign that I’m too late. He’s obviously come here for closure. I’m just mucking things up, all over again.

As surreptitiously as possible, I swipe at my cheeks before I withdraw the object I’d tucked into the pocket of my pants. I unfold it carefully, reverently, and peer down at it with vision that’s cloudy from my tears.

“This is what I came to give to you when I overheard you and my father talking. I’d made it especially for you.” My lips tremble, and I work hard to withhold an impending sob.

I step forward and hold the monogrammed handkerchief with downcast eyes. I can’t look—don’t want to—because I don’t want to look back on this day and recall the pity in his eyes.

“Just take it.” My hand wavers as I hold it out for him. “Throw it away. Burn it. Whatever.”

“Only if you’ll eventually consider taking this.”

His softly spoken words cause me to raise my eyes and I blink, trying to see through the sheen of tears.

Then I blink again. Because I can’t possibly be seeing what I think I’m seeing.

He holds the small box containing the ring I’d left behind years ago.

“Emma Jane Haywood, I’ve loved you from the moment our lockers were side by side in the tenth grade. And I never”—his throat works as he goes on—“gave my heart to anyone else.

“Since it’s the anniversary of the day I asked you to marry me, I came here to reflect on everything.” His eyes shimmer with emotion, his features taking on a sudden intensity. “But, I was coming back for you. The only difference is, this time I was going to stay as long as it took to prove to you that we’re meant to be together.”

My lips part in disbelief, only to immediately snap shut when his thumb flips the lid closed on the ring box, and he slides it in his pocket.